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Tacloban City --- I lived there for some few years with my parents and kid brother in my granny's home. I'd rather call it a house. Granny wasn't the granny people picture grannies to be. She was a mystery to me.... distant, circumspect, and I perceived her to be cold. So I never had that grandmother-granddaughter relationship which I saw in my friends' families. She never made a dent on my young mind back then except that she was cold. So much for granny. I hope she's having a great time up there. Maybe she would finally learn to party with the angels and saints.
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My kid brother was a nerd. Intelligent, even-tempered, good with people, great with books, and with his guitar. He could sing, too. Looking back at it now I think he sounded more like Don Maclean. My fondest memories of him were those times when we would butt heads exchanging facts.. insights.. observations.. opinions.. while doing our homework. Now our house was small that wherever you stood you would have the great advantage of seeing the living room, the kitchen, and the bedroom in one momentous mind-boggling instant. (we lived on the ground-floor) Before they invented the word 'open concept' in interior design, we were living in it with the bare necessities of life.
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But in that precious house and home I had the best moments of my life. And the biggest lesson learned from a mother who had the mind as expansive as the universe and a heart as limitless as deity.
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One evening, my brother and I were at our usual mental butting as we defended our respective turf on subjects which turned incessantly on the I-know-better-than-you wheel. We created quite a rumpus with our voices. Dad, with a knowing look in his eye and a secret smile on his face, simply took his cigarette out to the yard. But Mom, who was cooking my favorite chicken adobo in the kitchen, stopped what she was doing and turned to us with this........
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'I hate noise.. and you two get on my nerves like hell. But.... if that is the price to pay to see you learning. Carry on. Just lower your voices a notch, okay?' (Spoken in waray, the dialect of Taclobanons)
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And I have never stopped learning hence.
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Love life.. love your home.. love your family.. love learning.
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God bless you, your family, and your home.
Tacloban City --- I lived there for some few years with my parents and kid brother in my granny's home. I'd rather call it a house. Granny wasn't the granny people picture grannies to be. She was a mystery to me.... distant, circumspect, and I perceived her to be cold. So I never had that grandmother-granddaughter relationship which I saw in my friends' families. She never made a dent on my young mind back then except that she was cold. So much for granny. I hope she's having a great time up there. Maybe she would finally learn to party with the angels and saints.
.
My kid brother was a nerd. Intelligent, even-tempered, good with people, great with books, and with his guitar. He could sing, too. Looking back at it now I think he sounded more like Don Maclean. My fondest memories of him were those times when we would butt heads exchanging facts.. insights.. observations.. opinions.. while doing our homework. Now our house was small that wherever you stood you would have the great advantage of seeing the living room, the kitchen, and the bedroom in one momentous mind-boggling instant. (we lived on the ground-floor) Before they invented the word 'open concept' in interior design, we were living in it with the bare necessities of life.
.
But in that precious house and home I had the best moments of my life. And the biggest lesson learned from a mother who had the mind as expansive as the universe and a heart as limitless as deity.
.
One evening, my brother and I were at our usual mental butting as we defended our respective turf on subjects which turned incessantly on the I-know-better-than-you wheel. We created quite a rumpus with our voices. Dad, with a knowing look in his eye and a secret smile on his face, simply took his cigarette out to the yard. But Mom, who was cooking my favorite chicken adobo in the kitchen, stopped what she was doing and turned to us with this........
.
'I hate noise.. and you two get on my nerves like hell. But.... if that is the price to pay to see you learning. Carry on. Just lower your voices a notch, okay?' (Spoken in waray, the dialect of Taclobanons)
.
And I have never stopped learning hence.
.
Love life.. love your home.. love your family.. love learning.
.
God bless you, your family, and your home.
